


Unfinished Business

by SheilaPaulson



Series: All But Reason Trilogy [2]
Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Season/Series 05
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-14
Updated: 2003-03-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 19:13:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11812437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SheilaPaulson/pseuds/SheilaPaulson
Summary: A Trilogy, set a brief time after Gauda Prime. No spoilers for this one!





	Unfinished Business

**Author's Note:**

> Note from oracne, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Bang and Blame](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Bang_and_Blame), a Blake’s 7 archive, which has been offline for several years. To keep the works available for readers and scholars, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after June 2017. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Bang and Blame collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/BangAndBlame/profile).

The time was right, and Commissioner Sleer knew it. This time, it was going to work, and she would have it all back, her power, the presidency, the galaxy. Hers, all hers. And none of this Sleer nonsense anymore. She was going back to power as Servalan. None of the sneaking, sniveling deceptions, the concern that someone would recognize her and give her away before he could be silenced. She was going back as president, as herself. And why stop at the presidency? Queen Servalan had rather a nice ring to it. Or better yet, Empress Servalan. She smiled. It had all gone well, the past six months. At last she had put an end to Blake, to Blake's rabble. True, his followers had stolen his body, and the others had escaped, but in the past six months, there had been no word of them. Well, that was only to be expected. Without Blake, there was no rebellion, and without Avon--she smiled, a contented smile rather like a well fed cat--without Avon, the erstwhile crew of the Scorpio were bound to go their separate ways, diving into convenient boltholes. She would find them eventually and see that they were taken care of, but they were no threat to her power, none at all. Without Blake, without Avon, they had never been a threat. And now Blake was dead, and she had Avon.

The catlike smile spread again across her features. Avon was tucked away nicely at Farner's private clinic on Mordra Minor, where no one would ever thing to look for him. And if they looked, what would they find? A man drugged into mindlessness for six months, a man who had stared at nothing with the eyes of madness before she had ordered him taken away.

She did not know if there would be anything left of the old Avon to find when, once again secure in her power, she would have him brought before her. Farner's latest report, just received, indicated that there might be. There had been a hysterical outburst--so something lived behind those impenetrable eyes after all. She was going to enjoy the discovery very much. Avon, helpless and in her power. Oh yes, she was going to enjoy this.

"Commissioner?"

The voice held the utter terror or one who knew her power and feared it, and who was committed to bringing her bad news. She looked at the officer, a pretty young man, little more than a boy really, and said,"Yes, Gav?"

"Commissioner...." His voice faltered for a moment, then he said very quickly, "Commissioner, the prisoner Kerr Avon has escaped."

#

 

"I want to know how this happened, Farner, and I want to know immediately."

 

The doctor stood his ground reluctantly, afraid of the furious woman who stood before him, yet unwilling to let her know it. "As of yet, Commissioner Sleer, we are not quite certain exactly how it could have happened. We know a bit, but not all."

 

"Then tell me the bit," she said icily. "Perhaps the rest will become clear to us."

 

"Commissioner, you know this is a maximum security hospital: the force field which surrounds the base is impenetrable. Once it has been set, no one can pass through it in either direction. If someone tried to go through the field, he would be vaporized instantly. However," he added quickly before she could make the inevitable comment, "Not without us knowing about it. The energy required to vaporize a man can be measured precisely, and no such energy was expended the night Kerr Avon vanished, The force field was not tampered with--six separate monitors control the field, six independently functioning monitors. It is conceivable that some of them could have been tampered with or malfunctioned, but it is impossible that all could. And before you should ask, the field was not shut down, not even for seconds. we can monitor that too."

 

"Then I would be very interested in hearing your explanation, Farner. No one could escape from your hospital, but someone did. How?"

 

"I fear he had inside assistance, Commissioner. A man who had been hired some three months ago to tend the grounds."

 

"A gardener?" Sleer asked skeptically. "But surely such personnel are checked thoroughly, Farner."

 

"Of course, Commissioner. Rendall had excellent references, and he worked here in an exemplary manner for three months."

 

"To lull your suspicions," she informed him with scorn.

 

"We realize that now. But, Commissioner, even with help, Rendall could not have gotten Avon out of the grounds. It would be, as I told you, quite impossible."

 

"Since it was done, it was clearly not impossible, Farner. Now I want you to tell me exactly what ways there are to penetrate this base."

 

"The only way would be to land a ship on the grounds, Commissioner, and such would have registered on the instruments. It did not."

 

"Then I would like some information on this mysterious gardener, Rendall. You will be good enough to show me his picture and his file."

 

"Very well." He flicked a switch on his desk, pushed a couple of buttons, and a picture came up on the screen, "There is the man, Commissioner, Does he look the type to help a prisoner escape?"

 

Servalan looked at the face on the screen and felt cold rage flow through her, "Vila Restal," she said. Vila? Surely Farner was right: Vila was not the type for daring rescues, even more certainly not the type to work undercover for three months, waiting for a chance to get Avon free. But still...."He is one of the best men at opening locks and disarming security systems in the entire Federation," she said.

 

"I don't care if he designed the system: he could not have shut it down without there being some trace of it. I admit he might just possibly have bypassed it and escaped, if he is as good as you say he is, but he could not have done it without leaving some trace of his work behind."

 

"Then could someone have teleported out of here?"

 

"Teleport...."

 

"Yes, you fool, teleport."

 

"But I thought there was no longer a functional teleport device...."

 

"You thought? You thought yourself safe and did not take even the most basic precautions, Farner. Well, there are precautions you should have taken, precautions against disappointing me."

 

"Commissioner...."

 

"So Blake's rabble are not crushed after all," Servalan said, half to herself. "But why wait so long? Why wait six months?" The possibility that occurred to her froze her blood. Could she have overlooked something as obvious as that? Blake? Supposing Blake had not been dead. She had ordered a guard on the body--she had been positive that it had been a body--until Avon could be secured aboard her ship, only to find that the rest of Avon's crew had vanished and that the body had been stolen. Stolen and restored somehow? Revived? Saved? She was furious with herself for overlooking something so basic, for taking too much for granted Blake was alive then? Alive, but critically injured. Maybe it had taken him this long to recuperate from his wounds, wounds inflicted upon him by Avon. Then, when he was well, he had come after Avon, he had sent Vila ahead--Vila could never have planned such a scheme on his own, she was convinced of that--in order to eventually free Avon. But why? All that effort to rescue the man Who had shot him? Servalan found that difficult to believe. And that much effort to rescue him for revenge made no sense to her either; surely Blake would have the ideal revenge by leaving Avon exactly where he was.

 

Servalan did not understand why Avon had been freed, but the fact that he had been worried her. Somewhere out there, Avon lived. Perhaps the madness would pass once he was removed from the medications Farner's people had given him and, if so, Avon would want revenge for what had happened on Gauda Prime. He was going to come looking for her.

 

Servalan realized that she found the idea daunting--and she did not like the feeling. So she turned to Farner. "You failed me, Farner. And I am certain you know the penalty for failure." She smiled a little as the color drained from his face.

 

#

 

Weeks passed, three of them, then four, and there was still no word of Avon, of Blake, of any rebel activity that could be attributed to either of them. Servalan found herself delaying her bid for power, waiting to see what would happen, sending out feelers to locate any rumor, any hint, however faint, that might lead her to Avon and Blake. But it was as if they had somehow ceased to exist. She only knew that she had to find them and do away with them, before they found her.

 

Part 1: Venture

 

"A main base, I ask you," Vila said. "I mean, wouldn't it be better to start out someplace small and out of the way? We're out of practice, Blake. I haven't opened a lock in just ages."

 

"Yes you have," Tarrant reminded him. "The one on the liquor cabinet."

 

"That doesn't count," Vila retorted. "A blind child could open it in his sleep. I meant a real lock, one worthy of my genius."

 

Avon noted Tarrant's sour expression. "What's wrong, Tarrant?" he asked with deceptive mildness. "Couldn't you get it open?" He caught Vila's eye, and Vila grinned. Avon didn't smile in return, but he looked amused all the same.

 

Blake sat back in his chair and watched them. It felt good to see Avon so relaxed, especially after all they had been through to bring him back to them, to help him to rediscover himself after the months of being drugged into mindlessness in the hospital/prison where Servalan had had him confined after his capture on Gauda Prime. That hadn't been the hardest part, the getting him away from there, though. The hardest part had been helping him to recover from what he had done to himself, the state of blank apathy he had used to keep himself from feeling any more pain.

 

There had been a series of blows for Avon to face, the most recent of them his being driven to shoot Blake on his base on Gauda Prime. That Blake had been programmed to make Avon do it was something he hadn't known, and for six months, Avon had believed that he had killed Blake and led the others to their deaths; so completely had he believed it that he had shut himself away from everything, not even permitting himself to recognize Vila at first when he had infiltrated the clinic to help to free him. It was only when Vila had been able to start sneaking him undrugged food that Avon had finally let himself come back to awareness. Even after he had been brought on board Blake's new ship, the  _Venture_ , it had taken weeks for him to get over the worst of the symptoms of his illness. He still had nightmares from time to time, though they were beginning to ease up a bit now, but the other symptoms, the shaking hands, cold sweat, odd moments of blank trance, and even more disturbing to Venture's crew, a rare crying spell, had faded entirely. Avon occasionally seemed colder than before, but Blake suspected that he did it deliberately to keep the crew at arms length to make up for letting them get so close to him during his illness. Blake still remembered with disturbing clarity two instances in which Avon had broken down and cried in his arms, and while he knew he would never mention it to Avon again, there had been a time when he feared that Avon might choose to leave the ship rather than stay here where he had been forced to reveal such vulnerability.

 

But Blake was beginning to relax. Avon was more and more his old self, stubborn, arrogant and difficult, but that was the way that Blake preferred him. It had hurt far more than he had believed possible for him to see Avon helpless and suffering, forced to depend upon him and the others. The sight of Avon comfortable with the rest of the crew, making sarcastic remarks to Vila and Tarrant, was pure relief to Blake. And Avon sharing a joke with Vila was better still. Avon had been very dependent on Vila during the early stages of his illness, and Blake had been afraid that once he was well, Avon would withdraw again, become colder than ever toward the thief. But Avon hadn't. On the surface, their relationship did not appear to have changed; Avon still attempted to wither Vila with devastating comments, and Vila snapped right back as usual, but the sense of amusement behind it all was evident to anyone who cared to read the signs.

 

On the whole, Blake would say that Avon was well again, that in some ways, he was better than he had been before, more at ease with the others, and a bit more honest in admitting his feelings to himself. Why then, Blake wondered, did he have a sense of foreboding, a feeling that something was still wrong, waiting just out of reach to strike when they were least expecting it? He wondered if it wasn't the planned raid that made him nervous. He and Avon were a bit closer now than they had been before. He'd told Avon that he believed that it was better to care and to admit to caring, even if that meant hurt when someone was lost, and while Avon had not agreed with him, he had not scorned the entire idea either. Blake wondered if his unease wasn't simply due to the fact that the upcoming raid was dangerous and that after having brought Avon back to himself and to them, he didn't want to face the thought of losing him again.

 

In reply to Avon's question, Tarrant said, "The lock on the liquor cabinet isn't quite the issue, is it? Blake, maybe Vila is right. Maybe we ought to try something easier than Lerrion."

 

"Why?" Avon asked. "Are you out of practice, too, Tarrant?"

 

"No," said Tarrant simply. "You are."

 

Avon gave him an affronted look, but something dark and cold flashed in his eyes, and Blake had to force himself to keep from intervening. Something  _was_  bothering Avon, no matter how much he might deny it. And Blake was positive that, if questioned, Avon would deny it emphatically.

 

But Avon was very good at dissembling. He said easily, "I admit that, Tarrant. It has been a long time, but I don't need you to tell me so."

 

Vila said, "Then let's find a nice little out of the way base where we can...."

 

Avon glared at him. He didn't mind Vila's complaining about the mission; that was a normal state of affairs. But Vila doing it to protect him was another story. He said, "If we are going to do it at all, Blake, we may as well begin as we mean to go on."

 

He would ask for no concessions. The others had been forced to make enough of them during his illness, and he had been forced to accept them, but he hadn't liked it then, though he had been in no position to do anything about it. Now that he was, he had decided to tolerate such things no longer. Blake knew that he would lose ground with Avon now if he showed the slightest sign of fussing over him, so he said, "We have to start somewhere. I think Lerrion is as good a place as any."

 

Vila still looked doubtful and concerned, and Tarrant was frankly skeptical. There was no expression whatever on Avon's face though, and that worried Blake. But he decided to go ahead and share his ideas with Avon and the others anyway. If everyone felt it too soon, then there could be a delay, but it might be better to leave that decision up to Avon this time. He said, "One of the things that has been puzzling me for a long time was how quickly the Federation recovered after the destruction of Star One. There was the inevitable period of confusion, of course; I knew that there would be, but I had hoped it would last longer. We knew that the Federation started using drugs to take back planets to make up for the fact that a big chunk of the fleet was lost in the battle against the Andromedans. It worked too because the various rebel groups after Star One weren't organized and coordinated--everyone was looking out for their own interests."

 

"What a surprise," said Avon with a sardonic smile.

 

"Yes, Avon. I know I should have expected something like that," Blake replied sharply.

 

"Yes, you should have done." Avon's reply was calm, annoyingly so.

 

"But it happened," Blake returned. "It doesn't do any good to worry about something that is too late to change. Let's get back to Lerrion."

 

"If we must."

 

Blake grinned a little. At least Avon sounded like himself, and he seemed to be curious about what he was leading up to. "Well, what I've been thinking about for a long time is the fact that it would have been both shortsighted and foolish for the Federation to place all their dependence on Star One. We couldn't have been the only ones looking for it."

 

"We weren't," Avon reminded him.

 

"But that's the point, Avon. No matter how well hidden Star One was, no matter how many people died or had their minds wiped to keep the location a secret, Star One was vulnerable because it was such an obvious target. The Federation couldn't possibly have taken the risk of having their central control that vulnerable--without a backup system."

 

"Backup system?" Vila echoed. "Another Star One?"

 

"Or several," Avon said thoughtfully. "With the main function controlled from Star One."

 

" And with the others available if something should go wrong," Tarrant added.

 

"But it'd have to be as much a secret as Star One would," Vila said. "Wouldn't it?"

 

"Yes," Blake replied. "And it wouldn't be very easy to find. Say one or two key officials in on the secret. Servalan for certain."

 

"But Servalan didn't know the location of Star One," Vila objected.

 

"But she did know of its existence," Avon reminded him. "There would be no guarantees that Servalan would know the location of any other control facilities, but she would probably know if they did, in fact, exist."

 

"Then why aren't we going after her, to find out?" Tarrant asked.

 

"We are, eventually," Blake told him. "But it would be much more effective if we could go armed with certain knowledge, and that is why I want to go to Lerrion."

 

"You think Lerrion is one of the possible control bases?" Avon asked. "And just how do you reach such a conclusion, Blake? How long have you been planning this?"

 

"Oh, for quite some time now, Avon. I've had the general idea on my mind for at least a year, but there was no way to do anything about it until now. I didn't have enough information for one thing; I've been learning a lot. And now that I have the use of Orac again, I've been able to find out even more. But without your help, I don't know if anything can be managed."

 

"So now it comes out," Avon said, sounding angry. "Blake, we had agreed to discuss things."

 

"We are discussing it, Avon." He added, "I didn't really have a chance to do so before, not thoroughly.

 

Avon looked at him consideringly a moment, then he nodded. "You wish for me to examine the computer systems there to determine if it could be one of the auxiliary control systems?" he asked.

 

"Exactly. The rest of us just aren't skilled enough to be able to recognize what we might find am decide if it's what we're looking for. And if Lerrion is not one of the bases, then you might be able to learn where they are through the system. The reason I've picked Lerrion is because it has been visited by a number of Federation computer specialists in the past several years. If it isn't a control base, it's certainly something that could be of interest to us, and I want to find out what's going on there."

 

"It does sound promising," Tarrant said. "But if it is one of the control bases, then it's going to be a lot more heavily fortified than you've led us to expect, Blake."

 

"Was Star One heavily fortified, Tarrant? No. Too many defenses would call attention to something they want to keep hidden. It will be a top security base, but I wouldn't think that it would be any better defended than any other." He grinned. "And Orac has a layout for us to study before we get there. I think we can teleport right down into the complex itself."

 

"Star One was shielded, Blake," Avon reminded him.

 

"True. If Lerrion is shielded, too, Orac should be able to find out for us before we teleport. I'd better get Dayna and Soolin up here so that we can go over the plans." He went over to the intercom. "Dayna, can you come to the flight deck?"

 

"I'll be right there, Blake," she said. "I've got something to show you when I come. Soolin's here with me. Do you need her too?"

 

"Yes."

 

The two of them arrived together, Dayna carrying a wrapped package under her arm. "What's going on?" she asked.

 

"Blake's dreamed up a wonderful new way to get us killed," Vila said mournfully. "What's that you've got there, Dayna? It wouldn't be something alcoholic, would it?"

 

"You hope," she said with a smile. "No, it's something that I've been working on, based on a weapon Blake told me about a few months ago, called IMIPAK. I thought it might be fun to play around with the idea for awhile and see what I could come up with."

 

"You've designed a weapon like IMIPAK?" Avon asked, sounding reluctantly impressed.

 

"No, rot really. The advantage of IMIPAK was the secrecy; the victim did not know it had been done to him, so he was vulnerable to attack at any time. His molecules were disrupted so that when a control device was activated, he could be killed from an almost unlimited range. This one isn't quite as complex as that. There's only the one device, and it does more or less what IMIPAK did but without the secrecy. Not quite the same, but still an effective weapon." She grinned. "'It's got a long range, too; as long as it can be properly aimed at the subject, he can be killed."

 

She began to unwrap the package, and everyone crowded around to see it. It looked like a rather ordinary gun, with a special projector at one end set in a coil, with a longer hand grip than usual, perhaps to allow for steadying the weapon. "Here," she said, holding it out to Blake. "I can rig a test if you want me to, Blake."

 

"I think that might be a good idea," he began, taking the gun and balancing it in his hand. But some instinct made him glance up then, and he saw the look on Avon's face.

 

Avon had stared at the gun for a moment, then he had gone pale and very still, and his hands had begun to tremble. That had been one of the most obvious signs of his illness, but there had been no trace of it lately. As he became aware of the shaking, he clenched his hands hastily into fists, turning away from the weapon, his shoulders rigid. Dayna looked at him in surprise.

 

Suddenly Blake knew what the problem was. Vila did too; he looked from Avon to the gun and back again, and said quietly, "Blake...."

 

Dayna realized that the gun had somehow disturbed Avon, and she began to wrap it up again. Keeping her voice level, she said, "I'll set up a test for you, Blake," and turned to leave the flight deck."Tarrant, how would you like to give me a hand?"

 

He nodded but refrained from comment. They left together. Soolin caught Blake's eye and followed them. "Avon?" Blake said.

 

He turned back, and he had managed to control the trembling of his hands. That was a good sign. He said, "I must give Dayna credit for her ingenuity."

 

" Avon, are you all right?" Blake hoped that Avon would not resent the question.

 

"Of course I am, Blake," he said, his voice stiff and formal, something in his voice forbidding any questions. "If you will excuse me...." he said and turned to go.

 

Vila and Blake stared after him as he left the flight deck, then Blake said, "The gun. That's what's wrong with him, isn't it? It's something we haven't thought of."

 

"I think so," Vila said. "It looks a bit like the one that he used to�"

 

"To shoot me with," Blake finished when he halted, clearly uncomfortable.

 

Vila nodded. "Not really all that much, but just enough. You know, Blake, there haven't been any guns around where Avon might see them. I know we decided at first that we didn't dare take any chances because of what happened on Gauda Prime, but later, even when we knew Avon wasn't likely to have another go at you, well, there just wasn't any reason for him to see one."

 

"And you think that because of...what happened back there that he might have a problem with them?" Blake asked, his voice suddenly tired. It made sense to him, and he wished that it didn't. He'd thought they had dealt with Avon's various problems, but this one was one they hadn't considered. "If it bothers him to see a gun...."Blake began.

 

"Not just seeing them, Blake," Tarrant's voice came from the entry. "I think we've got to consider what will happen when one of his has to rely on him to fire one. We just might find that he can't do it."

 

"What are you doing here?" Vila asked suspiciously.

 

"Oh, grant me just a little intelligence, Vila," Tarrant said mockingly. "Do you think I don't know what was wrong? Dayna didn't need any help. She was clearing the way for the two of you to talk to Avon. But Avon left, walked right past us and didn't see us, and so I came back. Blake, you'll have to think about this before we decide to go to Lerrion."

 

"I know that," Blake said. "It just hadn't occurred to me. I thought we were over the worst of it when we found out he was over that compulsion of his not to harm anyone. But now I realize I should have thought of it. I was blaming the Federation programmers and my own stupidity in getting caught in the first place, but Avon couldn't help remembering the gun. Shooting me wasn't Avon's only problem, but it was the main one. I think I'd better go and talk to him."

 

"He won't like that," Vila muttered. "Blake?"

 

"Yes, Vila?"

 

"Go carefully."

 

"Yes, do," Tarrant said. "And remember, Blake, no matter how well Avon seems to be now, you can't be certain he's all right. You can't treat a mental illness in this amateur fashion of ours and hope for one hundred per cent success. I think Avon's much better, but we can't tell how he'll react in a real crisis. Even when you rigged things so that he'd hit me, he was still in what amounted to a controlled environment, surrounded by people who were concerned about him, ready to intervene if they had to. If we go to Lerrion and take Avon with us--and you said we need him down there--then you'd better consider the possibility that he might not be ready for it."

 

"You don't know what you're talking about, Tarrant," objected Vila.

 

"Don't I? I think what just happened proves that I do."

 

"You don't understand Avon, Tarrant," Vila persisted.

 

"Maybe not, probably not, but I'm not blind. He couldn't even look at that gun. What's going to happen when he has to shoot someone?"

 

"That's what I plan to talk to him about," Blake said. There was a time when he would have been angry at Tarrant's words, but this time, he thought he could sense an underlying concern. Avon and Tarrant did seem to be getting on a bit better these days. "I know he's improved a lot," Blake said, "But these things can take time. I don't want Avon to have any relapses, but shielding him can be carried too far, and he'd never thank us for it. I'll go and see him now."

 

#

 

Avon had gone to his quarters; when Blake knocked, he said, "Come in, Blake," as if there could be no doubt about who it was. Blake went in and found him sitting on his couch, holding one of  _Venture's_  guns in his hand, an all purpose weapon that Dayna had designed, not unlike  _Scorpio's_. His hand was trembling just a bit.

 

"How did you know it was me?" Blake asked him.

 

"Who else?" he said. "You read my reaction on the flight deck, Blake, and you've rushed down here to make certain that I have not had a relapse." He raised the gun and pointed it straight at Blake's chest.

 

Blake couldn't help worrying a little, but he forced himself to stand his ground and meet Avon's eyes. They were unreadable, almost blank. Avon stared back for a moment, revealing nothing, then his hand began to shake violently, and he flung the gun away from him. It clattered against the far wall, the noise very loud in Blake's ears.

 

"There, you see," Avon said flatly."You should know perfectly well that I had no intention of shooting you again, Blake. I knew that it would be impossible. But even knowing that as I did, I couldn't even point a gun in your direction. Are you going to be able to take that kind of risks on Lerrion?"

 

"Yes, Avon," Blake said mildly. "Pointing a gun at a Federation trooper is just a little different from pointing one at me, at least I hope it is. And from what I've been told, you had no difficulty shooting at them back there on Gauda Prime."

 

Avon's eyes went blank for a second, seeing other things, the Gauda Prime base, Blake's body sprawled at his feet covered in blood, the troopers who surrounded him, but he forced the memory away. "Blake, I do not want you to take the risk of depending on me."

 

"Concerned for me, Avon?" Blake made himself ask it lightly.

 

And Avon answered as he would never have done in the past. "Yes. Does that surprise you, Blake?"

 

Blake was more than pleased to hear that admission, but it would never do to say so; Avon was still very much inclined to withdraw quickly from emotional declarations of any kind. "Only a little," he said, "Hearing you admit it."

 

Avon said seriously, "I thought I was responsible for your death once, Blake. I could not...live with that."

 

"You weren't responsible then, Avon. Even if I had died, you wouldn't have been responsible. It was the Federation. I'm very glad you put such value on my life. Surely that might indicate that you'd do what you could to preserve it."

 

"That's a comforting theory, Blake. However, it is not one I would advise you to rely on."

 

"I might have to, Avon. It's either that or giving all this up and finding a nice big bolthole for the six of us."

 

Avon looked up sharply at that, and Blake saw a combination of scornful disbelief and something far more vulnerable in his eyes. He was both astonished and touched that Blake would, in effect, offer to give up his cause for his sake, though he would never admit it, possibly not even to himself. As Blake had known it would, the scorn won out.

 

"Give up your great cause?" he asked sarcastically. "I'm not such a fool as to believe that."

 

"Don't you? When did I lie to you last, Avon?" Blake grinned slightly. "Disregarding Gauda Prime, of course."

 

A corner of Avon's mouth twitched in what might have been the beginning of a smile. He said, "And what do the others think of this mad idea of yours to follow me into exile?"

 

"You know perfectly well that we've never even discussed it. I don't think we'll have to, either, because I don't think we'll have a problem. You can't point a gun at me? Good. I wouldn't want you to. You're too good a shot. But that doesn't mean that you won't be able to use one if you have to." Blake smiled. "I happen to have faith in you, Avon."

 

"A commodity of which you have an unlimited supply, frequently misplaced. You really are a fool, Blake. You might be willing to take chances on my sanity with your life, but do you imagine the others will?"

 

"Suppose you answer that," Blake suggested. "Think of the past fi ve weeks. If it comes to that, think of the past seven months."

 

Avon frowned, remembering Vila's infiltration of the mental institution to rescue him; the way everyone had worked to help him recover his sanity since the rescue; the hours they had sat with him while he slept; their reassurances. Though it was difficult for him to admit it, he realized that they must consider him important to them or they would never have bothered; they would not do so much simply for his computer skill. If they were willing to do that, then perhaps Blake was right.

 

He said stiffly, "I know that, Blake, and I am not ungrateful. But even if you and the others might be willing to risk your lives, I'm not quite certain that I'm willing to endanger you."

 

"I think we're talking about something that might never happen, Avon, but we don't need to decide right away. Lerrion has waited this long; it can wait a little longer. There's no hurry."

 

Avon relaxed slightly, but he was still frowning. "It's only a delay, Blake."

 

"I think we need it. Lerrion will wait." Blake smiled. "And you can't deny that you are better than you were."

 

Avon held up his hands and studied them consideringly. They were steady. He said, "We shall see, Blake. But you might consider the possibility that the rest of you might be better off without me."

 

"There is no possibility of that."

 

Avon's eyes warmed slightly at Blake's ready response. "Have it your way, Blake. You always do."

 

"Then I'll let it go for now. We'll talk again later." He hesitated. "Shall I take the gun with me?"

 

"No, leave it. It's only a weapon. It should mean nothing more than that."

 

He went over and picked it up again, and Blake left him to it. There had been a time, right after Avon had returned to them, when they would not have dared entrust him with a gun, not only because he might have tried to harm them with it but also because it was feared that he might use it on himself. Blake was fairly certain that he wouldn't consider anything like that now, and he knew it was better to let Avon work his feelings out for himself. He had admitted once that he might possibly ask for help if he should need it. Knowing Avon, Blake was doubtful that he would ever ask, but he thought it better to wait and see. There was nothing else to do.

 

#

 

When Blake arrived on the flight deck the next morning, he found Avon there before him, studying a diagram that he had called up on the main screen. Vila was there too, looking like he was half asleep, curled up on one of the couches, but when Blake came in, he glanced up, caught his eye and grinned at him. Blake followed his eyes to the screen, then he stiffened as he realized that Avon was studying the layout of the base on Lerrion.

 

"Ah, Blake," Avon said smoothly. "I think you may be right about Lerrion being one of the auxiliary control bases. Look at this. There's an area of the base that not even Orac can penetrate."

 

"That information is not in any Federation computer," Orac corrected peevishly. "Even I cannot locate what is not there to be found."

 

"What precisely can't be found?" Blake asked.

 

"There is a sub-level of the base that is not on any of the charts and plans that we can find," Avon told him. "Yet we can detect its presence because lower levels are clearly marked." He looked interested and curious, and the tension that had filled him yesterday seemed to have eased. Blake wondered if his curiosity about the base had overridden his concern about handling guns or if he had managed to find a way to come to terms with his problem in the time that had elapsed. He knew better than to ask though. Instead he said, "You think it might be a control complex, then?"

 

"Yes, possibly. And even if it is not, then it is something secret, something we are not meant to know about, and quite frankly, I would like to know what it is."

 

"But it could be dangerous," Vila put in.

 

"Oh, it will undoubtedly be dangerous," Avon told him, not without a certain relish.

 

"And you want to go down there?" Vila was frankly skeptical.

 

"I wish to find out what is down there," Avon said.

 

Blake looked at him, trying to keep his concern hidden. "Do you think we're ready for it, Avon?"

 

Avon turned to look at him. "Do you think we are not?" he countered. It was a challenge and Blake knew it. Avon had decided to go through with it, and he would not take kindly to being protected, which meant that he must believe that he was ready. On the other hand, Avon could be incredibly stubborn at times, and Blake couldn't help worrying about it. He had a feeling that if anything went wrong down there, it was going to be a lot harder on Avon than he realized.

 

" _I'm_  not ready for it," Vila said.

 

" _You_?" Avon gave him a scornful look. "When are you ever?"

 

"Well, you won't need me down there anyway, not if you're just going to check on the computers."

 

"What makes you think that? Who will open the doors for us?"

 

"Oh," Vila said. But Blake got the idea that his protests were halfhearted ones. He didn't really want to go, of course--he never did--but he wouldn't argue it except that Avon seemed to expect him to.

 

"Have you found out anything about when might be the best time for us to go down there?" Blake asked. " Any signs of when traffic there might be less, or security less intense?"

 

"Orac is collating that data now."

 

Tarrant strolled onto the flight deck then stopped, looking at the screen. "What  _have_  I been missing?" he asked.

 

Avon turned to face him. "We are discussing Lerrion, Tarrant."

 

"Oh?" Tarrant sounded interested. "I thought we'd decided to put all that off for a bit."

 

"And now we have decided not to," Avon told him.

 

Tarrant cast him a curious glance, then turned his attention to the screen. "What's that blank area?" he asked.

 

Avon looked surprised that he had noticed it."We believe it may be what we are looking for."

 

"Then we're going there?" Tarrant asked, turning to Blake.

 

Blake looked at Avon then turned back to Tarrant. "Yes," he said slowly. "We're going there." And hoped that he would not come to regret it.

 

#

 

The next few days were spent in studying the plans of the base and laying their own plans for getting into it. Orac was able to determine that the lower levels were shielded, preventing teleporting directly where they wanted to go, so they would be forced to teleport into the ground level and work their way down. Vila looked over the locking systems and didn't find anything that was going to present serious problems, though it would not be easy either. He pored over various diagrams with a long face, complaining all the while.

 

Avon worked on a relay system to convey information directly to Orac once they were down on the base. That would make it easier for them and would require less time on the base itself. Orac seemed offended that the base was so well shielded that not even he could penetrate it, voicing the opinion that if he could not contact the Lerrion computer that it did not exist. Vila picked up on this and proclaimed loudly that there was no need to go down there then, if the computer didn't exist. Avon favored him with a disgusted look. Orac had not discovered the location of Star One either.

 

Finally after about a week of preparations, Blake set the course for Lerrion. It would take them seventy hours to arrive.

 

#

 

That night, he went to talk to Avon. He found the computer expert in the room Dayna had set up to test new weapons, going over her charts on the latest one she'd developed, the one based on IMIPAK.

 

"Avon?"

 

He jumped slightly. "Blake," he said, and his tone was less than friendly.

 

"I didn't mean to surprise you, Avon, but I wanted to talk to you."

 

"You have found me. Talk."

 

"Avon, I need to know if it's all right."

 

Avon didn't pretend to misunderstand him. He obviously did not welcome the question, and he seemed to resent Blake's asking it, but he did not try to avoid it either. "I...think so," he said at length. "I must try it, Blake. The longer I wait, the harder it will be." He picked up Dayna's new weapon and held it in hands that were almost, but not quite steady. "You see," he said.

 

Blake nodded, though he was not sure exactly what Avon was trying to say. "Yes, Avon. I see." He saw also that Avon was not going to make any concessions to himself, and that he had decided that he could handle it. "Avon, you won't be alone down there," he said.

 

Avon didn't react to that, but he looked away as if he were afraid that his eyes might show more than he wished them to. He said, "Blake, it could still go wrong. I don't think it will, but there is that possibility."

 

"I don't think it will either, Avon. I trust you."

 

"You have a very annoying habit of saying that, Blake."

 

That tone of voice sounded much more normal. Blake grinned a little. "It must be a flaw in character," he said.

 

Part 2: Lerrion

 

They achieved orbit around Lerrion without being detected, thanks to the improved detector shield that Avon had been developing, and they got ready to teleport down to the base. Traffic around Lerrion seemed normal for a Federation base, no heavier than usual, and after staying in orbit several hours without triggering any alarms, Blake decided that it would be safe enough to risk going down. It was night on the base and there was little activity. Orac had been picking up routine transmissions, nothing to indicate that there was any trouble.

 

"I think we're ready," Blake said, strapping on his gun,

 

"Wonderful," Vila said mournfully, but he put his own gun on, and his eyes strayed over to look at Avon.

 

The computer expert had his weapon on already, and his face was slightly pale but composed. Vila eased a bit closer, sensing the tension in him and wondering if there was some way to relax it without being obvious about it. He decided to complain a little. "Are you sure you really need me down there, Blake?"

 

Avon turned to study him consideringly. "As much as anyone could ever need a bumbling halfwit," he said. "What do you think?"

 

Blake said, "Yes, Vila. It's too late for you to back out now."

 

"It always is. I think we'd have done better going after Servalan first. She could have been a perfect hostage."

 

"And may still be one," Blake reminded him. "And since you're so eager for it, we'll let you be the one to guard her."

 

"Oh," said Vila in a small voice, but he was pleased too because Avon had smiled a little.

 

" Are we ready?" Blake asked.

 

"No," said Vila.

 

"Yes," said Avon.

 

Tarrant grinned and turned to head for the teleport.

 

Dayna and Soolin were waiting there, Dayna still expressing eagerness to come with them. "Blake, you know I could be useful. I could try out my new gun."

 

"I know, Dayna. But we might need a backup, and you and Soolin would be our best chance of getting out of trouble once we've gotten into it."

 

Dayna nodded. "All right, Blake. But stay in touch."

 

"Every fifteen minutes. Ready?"

 

Everyone nodded.

 

"Then put us down, Dayna."

 

It was the first time Avon remembered using the  _Venture's_  teleport system; he had not been conscious when he'd been brought aboard the ship originally and had not left it since; the sensation was not quite as smooth as he remembered the  _Liberator's_  teleport being, and he felt a momentary disorientation on rematerializing, but it passed quickly. He looked round and found himself in an inner passageway. Fortunately for the landing party, it was deserted.

 

Vila made a hasty gesture for silence, pointing to a speaker device set high on one wall. Moving closer to Blake, he whispered, "We'll have to keep it quiet. That picks up any loud noises and triggers an alarm."

 

They passed the word quietly to Avon and Tarrant, and then, walking almost on tiptoes to avoid triggering the audio alarm, they moved down the corridor in the direction of the lift.

 

Once inside, with the door closed, Vila breathed a sigh of relief, then he looked at the control system, and winced. "They don't half make it difficult, do they?" he protested.

 

"What's the matter?" Tarrant asked.

 

" A triple security bypass," Vila explained. "It will keep us from stopping at the level we want unless I can bypass it quickly. It's got a computer tie-in. Avon, I'll need your help on this."

 

Avon moved over to assist him.. Blake watched them work together smoothly, Vila handling the locking system, pointing out the computer link to Avon who set to work on it at once. It took them twenty five seconds to adjust it to their satisfaction. All that time, the elevator moved steadily lower. Finally, Vila grinned in relief. "That's done it," he said and pushed a red button with a flourish.

 

No alarms sounded, and seconds later, the doors swished open to reveal a long corridor. There was a desk set near the entrance, and a man sat at it, making marks on a check list. When they left the elevator, he raised his eyes in surprise. "But I didn't think anyone was due for another... Wait a minute...."

 

He only shut up because Tarrant's gun was pointed straight at his chest. "What is this?" he asked in tones of careful outrage.

 

" A tour of inspection," Blake said mildly. "And as long as you cooperate nicely, we won't bother you a bit. On your feet now, and don't do anything quickly, because my young friend there is a bit hasty with a gun."

 

The man eyed Tarrant uneasily, and the pilot gave him a predatory grin that did nothing to reassure him. He smiled weakly. "I'm no hero," he said.

 

And then, Avon's gun was pointing at him too. "I think you had best put both hands where we can see them," he instructed. The guard looked even more uneasy than before and obeyed.

 

Blake couldn't help noticing that the hand that held the gun was steady, and he felt a surge of combined relief and pride at the sight. He smiled at Avon, and said to the guard, "On your feet now."

 

The man obeyed. "What are you doing here?"

 

"Suppose you tell us," Blake said. "What is this place?"

 

" It's a storage area," the man replied promptly, his eyes moving from Tarrant to Avon and then back to Blake.

 

"Is it?" Blake asked. "I don't think so. Storage areas don't require security blocks on elevators, now, do they?"

 

The man deflated visibly. "I will tell you nothing," he said, but not very convincingly.

 

"What a pity. Tarrant, see if anyone else is around, and watch out for security devices."

 

Vila sat at the abandoned desk and took a look at the controls there."There's a security setup, Blake," he said, "But it's tied into some sort of a computer system that I haven't seen before. Avon...."

 

Avon moved forward, while Blake covered the guard with his gun, and looked at the screen before him. "Well now, this is interesting," he said. "I had no idea the Federation had taken it this far."

 

"Can you understand it, Avon?" Blake asked.

 

"Of course. I was helping to design it before I got caught using it to break into the Federation banking system. It would have worked if I had waited for it to become completely operational, I think," he added thoughtfully, a slight touch of grimness on his face as the memories proved a bit painful. "They monitored it more closely because it was experimental. If I'd done it alone...." He changed the subject quickly. "I think I could pull enough information from right here to suit our needs, Blake. But it would be better if I could get into the main complex." He turnedl to the guard. "And just where would we find that?"

 

"I am not going to tell you."

 

"Then the system will." Avon hit a few buttons, coded something into the machine that made the guard's eyes widen in reluctant admiration, and looked rather pleased with himself with the screen lit up.

 

"How did you do that?" the guard asked.

 

"I know this system," Avon replied. "I helped to design it. I built a few safeguards into it to give me access whenever I should want it. They had no way of knowing I'd done it, so there would be no way to detect it without knowing which codes to check for." He was clearly enjoying himself. "Blake, I think I've found what we're looking for. It's this way."

 

They moved down the corridor, meeting Tarrant coming back. "There's a room down there with enough computer equipment to run fifteen planets with room to spare," he said, "And there are only two guards at the door, and they're not expecting trouble."

 

They got it all the same. Blake thought it over. The guard at the desk was about his size. A few minutes later, wearing his uniform, Blake made his way down the corridor toward the two guards.

 

They paid no attention to him until it was too late. His gun at stun setting, Blake took them out at close range. Leaving Tarrant to hide the bodies and Vila to guard their original prisoner, Avon and Blake entered the control room.

 

There were two technicians at work there, but the sight of Blake's uniform reassured them, and they continued to work, apparently simply monitoring the printouts.

 

"That's enough," Blake said calmly. "Stand away from the equipment, please."

 

The two techs didn't try any heroics, they simply drew back obediently, staring. Then one of them made a startled exclamation and took a few steps closer. "Kerr Avon," he cried in surprise. "It is you, isn't it? What are you doing here? Checking out your system?"

 

Avon and Blake exchanged a startled glance, then Avon said, "Dickson, isn't it? Yes, that's right, we're checking it out. Have you had any problems lately?"

 

"No, it's flawless. But you...we'd heard that you'd been arrested, and...."

 

"You heard correctly," Avon said, moving to sit at the central position. He began punching the code he'd used at the outer console, then he raised his bracelet. "Dayna?"

 

"Yes, Avon? Problems?"

 

"No. I'm ready to link with Orac. Stand by."

 

"Orac is ready."

 

The tech Dickson was staring in openmouthed surprise. "You're a resister," he proclaimed. "You're here to destroy the system. I won't let you do it."

 

"You have no choice," Blake reminded him. "And you are incorrect. We are not here to destroy the system, merely to study it."

 

"Oh, well, in that case," Dickson mumbled, subsiding. Blake gave him a suspicious look, then checked the other tech, who was standing where he had first risen, frozen into position. As soon as he turned, Dickson jumped him.

 

"Blake!" Avon shouted, making a grab for his gun, but before he could get off a shot, Tarrant came crashing into the room and fired. Dickson fell.

 

Blake took a step back from his body and gave Tarrant a relieved grin. "Thank you."

 

And then he turned to Avon. The computer expert's face had gone pale, and his hands were trembling a little.

 

Blake decided he'd better do something right away. "Thank you, too," he said quickly. "If you hadn't yelled and warned me, he'd have had my gun away from me."

 

"I didn't shoot him." Avon's voice was utterly without expression.

 

"No, and you didn't have a clear shot either. You would have got him in time if Tarrant hadn't come in."

 

"Are you certain of that, Blake?"

 

"Yes."

 

Avon looked down at the gun in his hand, then he lay it aside rather quickly and turned back to the equipment. "I had better link Orac up," he said flatly.

 

Tarrant caught Blake's eye and they exchanged a worried glance.

 

But nothing else went wrong as Avon completed the link for Orac, at the same time shutting down the shielding that prevented the use of the teleport at this level. It took less time than they might have expected, and Avon seemed to have himself under control, but from where he stood halfway across the room, Blake could see that Avon was rigid with tension. The incident with Dickson had disturbed him. Blake wished that Tarrant had not come into the room when he did. If he hadn't, Avon would have had time to get his shot off, and that would have resolved the problem. Now Avon was facing doubts, doubts that did him no good.

 

Vila appeared presently, looking pleased with himself, but his smile faded as soon as he came into the room. He knew that something was wrong, and the sight of Dickson's body on the floor did nothing to relieve his mind. He said, "I think we'd better hurry, Blake."

 

"Why in particular?"

 

"There was a signal at the desk out there. I got the man to stall them, but he could have been a lot more convincing. I think we're running out of time." He wandered over and looked down at Avon. "Can't you hurry it up then?"

 

Avon ignored him, and Blake asked, "What did you do with the guard?"

 

"I locked him in the closet," Vila replied with a grin, "And jammed the lock so they'll have a time of it getting him out." He turned to Avon again. "Aren't you finished, then? I thought you knew this system so well."

 

Avon looked up at him briefly this time. "It's done," he said. "Dayna?"

 

"Yes, Avon?"

 

"Inform Orac that the link is complete."

 

"I know it is," Orac's voice came over the speaker. "I have been monitoring it for 10.3 seconds already. Kindly allow me to continue with my work."

 

Blake grinned. "How long will Orac have access to the system?" he asked.

 

"It should take them ten minutes to shut down those circuits thoroughly," Avon replied. "Longer if they did not know immediately that they had to do it." He turned his eyes on the second technician. "He will need to be silenced."

 

"And how long will Orac need to gather the information we need?" Blake wanted to know.

 

"Possibly longer than ten minutes," Avon replied.

 

"All right." Blake turned his gun to the technician. "We'll have to stun you, I'm afraid."

 

"I won't say anything," the man protested.

 

"That's a chance we can't take," Blake replied. He raised his gun, checked the setting and fired. The technician collapsed.

 

"All right," said Blake, "Let's get out of here."

 

It was at that moment that alarms began to sound. "They've found us," Tarrant said, jerking up his bracelet. "Dayna," he began, just as the door opened and troops began to crowd into the room.

 

Tarrant was well behind the others, and he had no chance of a shot, but even as he tried to speak into his bracelet, he saw what was happening.

 

Closest to the door, Avon saw the troops and went rigid as the alarms blared steadily, sounding more like the ones on Gauda Prime than any of them wanted to think about. Avon's gun was in his hand, but he hesitated for a second, picking his target. And in that second, thinking he had frozen, Blake and Vila moved. "Avon," cried Blake and dived toward him, right into Avon's line of fire.

 

Incredibly, Avon's reflexes were good enough for him to jerk his gun around to keep from hitting him as he fired. Everything happened with incredible speed, but to Tarrant, back behind the others, it seemed to be moving in slow motion. He could see it all happening, and there was not a thing he could do to help.

 

Avon's shot would have hit the lead trooper, but he'd been forced to jerk around so as not to hit Blake. That left the trooper free to fire, and he did. His shot took Blake in the side and he dropped without a sound to lay unmoving at Avon's feet.

 

As Avon's gun came around, it went off; it was too late to prevent it. And Vila, who had been diving for Avon too, had jumped right into his new line of fire.

 

"Teleport, Dayna," Tarrant yelled.

 

Avon's shot struck Vila in the arm, and the thief let out a startled yell and fell, clutching at the wound, a ludicrous expression of surprise on his face.

 

Avon froze. Tarrant couldn't see his face, but he could tell that Avon had stopped reacting to anything around him. The last sight of him before the teleport took them was Avon standing there, gun dangling from limp fingers as he stared down at Blake's body.

 

Then they were back on the  _Venture_. Blake hadn't moved, his eyes were shut, and his face was the color of parchment. Vila struggled to his feet, insisting in a voice that wasn't the least bit steady, "I'm perfectly all right. I'm not hurt, Avon. See. I'm all right." Then he got a good look at Blake, and what little color there had been in his face drained away. He said very quietly, "Oh no."

 

Avon stared blindly at Blake, who was still unconscious. Tarrant wasn't sure if Blake were even alive. The wound in his side looked like a bad one.

 

Then Dayna and Soolin rushed forward to help. "Get him to the medical unit," Tarrant ordered.

 

Soolin had knelt beside Blake. "He's alive," she said. "Dayna, help me."

 

Tarrant turned to Orac. "Orac, get us out of here, fast."

 

For once the computer didn't even try to argue. Tarrant gave a faint grin and then looked at Vila, who was swaying slightly, blood staining his sleeve. He was ignoring the injury, hovering beside Avon, who looked as if he were not even aware of where he was. "Avon?" he faltered. "Avon, it wasn't your fault."

 

"Vila, can you make it to the medical unit on your own?" Tarrant asked him.

 

He turned to Tarrant. "I can't. Avon...."

 

"You won't help Avon if you pass out, Vila."

 

That was undeniably true, and Vila suspected that it was only a matter of time before he lost consciousness. He said, "I'm all right, Tarrant," but he didn't sound very convincing even to himself.

 

Tarrant said, "I'll look after Avon. Just get to the medical unit." Vila hung back a minute more, then he turned and followed Dayna and Soolin.

 

Avon still hadn't moved. He stood there, his face pale and blank, his gun dangling uselessly in his hand. His eyes were dull and staring, and he had not heard anything that Vila had said to him. Dismayed, Tarrant stared at him, then he reached forward and plucked the gun neatly from Avon's unresisting fingers. "Avon?" he said.

 

There was no response. Tarrant had been afraid there wouldn't be one. It would take more than that to get through to Avon now.

 

He felt helpless. Anyone of the others would have been better equipped to deal with Avon in this condition than he was. He and Avon had never been close, but right now, the others weren't available, and Blake was going to expect Tarrant to look after Avon. He didn't have any choice.

 

" Avon, come out of it," he said. "Avon, can you hear me?" Avon looked right through him.

 

Tarrant shrugged helplessly, then he went over to Avon and took hold of his arm and shook him lightly. Avon still didn't react, but Tarrant could feel how rigid his muscles were, how tense he was. His hands were shaking again, and he seemed completely unaware of where he was.

 

This called for drastic measures. Tarrant knew he had to find out if Blake would live before anything could be resolved, but he didn't know if it were a good idea to take Avon to the medical unit yet. Still, there was nothing else to do. "Come on, Avon," he said. "We'll go and see how Blake and Vila are."

 

A shudder ran through Avon's body. So he hadn't totally shut himself off from everything. Tarrant said, "Avon, none of that was your fault. I could see everything, and you were handling it just fine. The two of them overreacted."

 

Nothing. Tarrant shook his head. Well, he'd have to hope that Blake's injury wasn't fatal. He didn't think that anything short of Blake alive was going to get through to Avon right now. He tightened his grip on Avon's arm and led him in the direction of the medical unit. Avon came with him unresisting.

 

Tarrant sneaked a look at him, saw that there were huge dark shadows around his eyes, but there was a bit more awareness in them, as if he were starting to come out of it. "Avon?" he ventured.

 

Still no response. Tarrant could not help but remember the first days after they'd rescued Avon from Servalan's prison. He had been like this then only more so. And sometimes Vila had got through to him simply by being blunt and persistent. So Tarrant said, "I never saw anything so stupid before."

 

Somehow that penetrated. Avon's eyes turned toward him am some of the blankness went out of them. He said dazedly, "What?"

 

"That mess down there. It was stupid."

 

"Stupid?" Avon echoed.

 

"Blake and Vila. They really botched things up, between the two of them."

 

"Blake?" his voice quivered. "Vila?"

 

"Blake and Vila were wounded," Tarrant explained gently. "And it was their own stupid fault, Avon, not yours."

 

"I...shot...."

 

"You shot Vila," Tarrant told him, "Because he was foolish enough to walk into your line of fire. Blake got himself shot because he wasn't watching the troopers; he was watching you. You were alert. If you hadn't been, you might have shot Blake, but you didn't--and Vila jumped right into your line of fire. I saw the whole thing, am there was no way you could have avoided it. Don't you see, Avon? You didn't freeze. You're all right."

 

Avon only stared at him stupidly; he wasn't quite back yet. Tarrant looked at his white face and haunted eyes and continued. "You didn't panic, you didn't do anything wrong. Next time, they'll have sense enough to trust you. Now are you going to come with me to the medical uni t and see if Dayna and Soolin need any help?"

 

Avon let himself relax for a moment, then he realized that Tarrant was holding his arm, and he pulled it away at once. That reassured Tarrant more than anything else he'd done so far. Gathering his strength, he steadied himself against the wall, then he turned and headed for the medical unit so fast that Tarrant practically had to run to keep up with him.

 

#

 

Blake's eyes were shut when they entered the medical unit, with Soolin bending over him, working on his injury. Avon stopped dead at the sight of his shuttered face and the gaping wound in his side, and said in a voice that wasn't quite steady, "Soolin?"

 

She didn't look up or stop her work, but she said quickly, "I know it looks bad, Avon, and it is, but it's not fatal. He'll be all right in a week or so."

 

"He'll be ail right?" he echoed as if he did not quite understand her words and had to reassure himself that he had heard her properly.

 

"Yes," she said. "He'll be fine, Avon. He'll tell you himself. Blake?" Blake's eyes opened. They were blurred and unfocussed, but he had enough awareness to look for Avon. He squinted up at him, tried to speak, and had to pause to moisten his lips first. "Avon?" he said weakly. "... are you all right?"

 

Avon approached the bed slowly as if afraid to discover that he had been lied to and that Blake was dying. He said, "Blake?"

 

"Yes, Avon." Blake sucked in air, winced as the motion jarred his injury. "Avon, it's all right," he said.

 

"Is it?" Avon's voice was shaking. "Blake...."

 

"I'm all right, Avon."

 

"Are you? There you lie with a great hole in your side, and you want to know if  _I_  am all right?"

 

That sounded a lot more like Avon, but his voice was too sharp, too controlled. It had been far too close to what had happened on Gauda Prime for any of them to be comfortable with it. Blake wondered if he might not have nightmares himself. But he had to find a way to ease Avon's discomfort before he let himself lose consciousness again. Everything seemed fuzzy around the edges, but right now, Avon was more important. His eyes were too bright and he was trembling a little. Blake found the strength somewhere to hold out his hand to him, and Avon looked at it a moment, blankly, then reached out and grasped it in both of his own.

 

"Avon," Blake managed to say, "I'm all right...so are you. I'm going to pass out again in a minute...but I'll live. So I'm going to expect you to...be fine when I wake up."

 

Avon stared down at him and the corners of his mouth twitched suddenly. "Is that an order?" he asked.

 

"Yes." Blake's eyes closed and he said faintly, "I mean it, Avon."

 

"You expect the impossible, Blake."

 

Blake's eyes opened again. "What? And I thought...the impossible came...naturally to you...Avon." He grinned faintly and lost consciousness.

 

Avon went stiff for a moment, but Soolin looked up at him and said matter of factly, "Avon, I'll need room to work on him. I'd like to have this patched up before he comes around again. He'll be in a lot of pain then, and the more I have done the less he'll have to suffer." Her practical tones reassured him, and he lay Blake's hand back on the bed and stepped back quickly. Soolin smiled a little and turned to Tarrant, who had been hovering behind Avon. "Tarrant, I'll need you to set up a transfusion," she said. He nodded and set to work.

 

Vila, who had been watching anxiously from the next bed while Dayna treated his arm, said now, "I told you it wasn't serious, Dayna."

 

"Nothing serious? Who passed out on the way here, I'd like to know?"

 

"I didn't pass out. I was only resting, that's all. It's a very long walk, you know. I'm all right. Really, Avon."

 

Avon turned and looked at him, assuring himself that Vila's injury really was superficial. Then unexpectedly he smiled. "I must be a worse shot than I thought," he said.

 

Vila's eyes opened wide, both affronted and delighted that Avon had recovered enough to insult him. "Well," he said, "In that case, I feel terrible. Dayna, please, may I have some adrenalin and soma?"

 

"Oh, give it to him," Avon said, "Though he doesn't deserve it. Vila, you fool, what do you think you were doing down there?"

 

"They were shooting at you," Vila said in a small voice, dreadfully embarrassed.

 

"And not at you? I was in the process of shooting back."

 

"He really was," Tarrant confirmed from across the room. "You need to give the man a bit of time to aim, that's all. He's still a little rusty. But no. The two of you fell all over yourselves trying to get to him when he was in perfect control. You deserved to be shot."

 

"Deserved to be shot," Vila objected hotly, jerking around to stare at him and wincing as he jarred his arm.

 

"Yes," Tarrant insisted, standing his ground.

 

"What would you know about it, Tarrant?" Vila demanded. "You never cared one way or another."

 

"And you did?" Tarrant asked.

 

Avon was smiling a little. "For once, Tarrant, you managed to do everything right. While I am certain you will never let us forget it, this is definitely an historic occasion."

 

"It'll never happen again," Vila said, sotto voce. "Ouch, Dayna," he added much more loudly. "That hurts."

 

"It ought to," Tarrant said.

 

Avon turned back to watch Soolin work over Blake. The monitors confirmed her report. Blake's vital signs were weak, but not in the danger area. He really was going to be all right. Suddenly, Avon felt the need to sit down, and he dropped into the nearest chair. Time for other things once he was certain that Blake was on the road to recovery.

 

Part 3: Venture

 

It was the dream again. Avon had thought it past him; it had been some time since he'd had it in all its fierce intensity. Gauda Prime, this time overlaid with the more recent fiasco on Lerrion, Blake still sprawled on the floor at his feet, still dead, blood staining his body. It had come so close to happening again, exactly the same. Would he never escape it? A vicious circle, Blake dead at his feet. No escape. He came awake yelling.

 

"Ssh, it's all right."

 

Avon's eyes opened and he found Vila sitting beside his bed, wearing pajamas, his arm in a sling. "I just thought I ought to be sure you were all right," he said apologetically. "I know you don't like people coming in, but I thought...."

 

Avon shivered and pulled his blankets around his shoulders. It took a few minutes to gain control of himself again, then he said, "Vila, all this thinking isn't good for you."

 

"I don't care."

 

"Don't you care that I shot you either?" Avon asked bitterly.

 

"No. It wasn't your fault." He grinned suddenly. "But if you want to wait on me and carry things for me and do my work and bring me adrenalin and soma, I won't object, not one bit."

 

"Don't be absurd," Avon said, smiling a little. "The last thing you need is a slave." Vila's nonsense always seemed to do him good, even when it irritated him. He added, "Is Blake...."

 

"He's asleep. Dayna's sitting with him. He suggested I come here though. I could have been in a nice warm bed. Dayna thought I should stay in the medical unit. You know I'm not well."

 

"I should have shot your tongue so you couldn't complain."

 

Vila made a face at him. "That's right, pick on me when I'm down. Everybody else does."

 

Avon ignored that. "Blake sent you here?"

 

"Yes. He's feeling a little better. He's mad at himself; says he walked into it like a bloody idiot."

 

"So he did. So did you."

 

"Well, we were just worried," Vila admitted. He seldom let himself get too serious when talking with Avon; he didn't want to give him any ideas; Avon was above himself enough without Vila helping it along. But. now he said gravely, "You'll just have to put up with us being protective at first. We had to work hard enough to get you better. We don't want to take any chances." He added quickly and lightly, "It would spoil our good record."

 

Avon didn't respond to that. Instead, he said, "Maybe I should go and see Blake."

 

"What good will that do. He's asleep. Needs it too. If you disturb him, Dayna will wring your neck. You go back to sleep. I've put up with enough from you already."

 

" _You've_  put up with enough." Avon shook his head, then added, "What about you? You shouldn't be up either. You were hurt."

 

"This little thing? It was only a scratch."

 

"I'll remember that--the first time you complain."

 

"Oh, will you?" Vila looked dismayed, then he smiled a little. "Avon, why don't you try to sleep now."

 

"I will not have you fussing over me, Vila," Avon warned him.

 

"Me? I never fuss. Gives people bad ideas," Vila said. He waited until Avon's eyes closed and he drifted back to sleep, then he tucked the blankets around him and reached out to brush the hair back from his eyes. "I don't believe in fussing," he said quietly and curled up in his chair again.

 

#

 

When Blake finally awoke, he wished that he hadn't. If he'd been given any painkillers, they had long since worn off, and his side throbbed fiercely. Aside from that, he felt lethargic and disinclined to move, but there was Avon to consider. He remembered asking Vila to look in on Avon in the night to make sure that there would be someone with him in case he had a nightmare, but he wasn't sure if this were the next morning or later than that.

 

Cautiously he opened his eyes.

 

Avon was sitting in a cha1r drawn up beside his bed. He looked completely normal, Blake thought, then when he moved, and Avon turned to look at him, Blake saw the concern in his eyes, quickly masked when Avon realized that he was awake.

 

"Blake, you're a fool," he said angrily.

 

"I know it, Avon."

 

"Do you?" Avon's voice was savage. "I am beginning to wonder if you do. The safety of this ship and crew...."

 

"Are of complete concern to me," Blake finished.

 

"Are they? Through your own stupidity, you and Vila were injured. You could have ruined everything. I have no patience with you and your causes and your stupid ideals."

 

The cold fury in his voice frightened Blake. There was a time when he'd been worried that they might lose Avon to overprotection, and now he wondered if they hadn't managed to do it after all. Although he was beginning to be afraid, Blake said as mildly as he could, "Avon, I'll apologize to you for being stupid, for overreacting down there. But I'm not going to apologize for caring about you." His tone implied 'take it or leave it,' and it was very hard for Blake to let himself sound so calm about it. The pain didn't help one bit, not when he needed to be able to think clearly.

 

Avon looked slightly taken aback, as if Blake's words had put him off his stride. And Blake, grasping what shreds of advantage he possessed, continued, "Avon, we're bound to make mistakes at first. After all, we're only human, Vila and I. You put us through a very bad time, and now that. you're well again, we want to make sure that you stay that way. We didn't do it right this time, but I hope you'll give us another chance."

 

Avon' s fury had drained away as Blake was speaking. For some annoying reason, he could never manage to stay properly mad at Blake anymore. He said in an irritated tone, "Next time, Blake, I'll expect more from you."

 

"Just as I'll know what I can expect from you, Avon." He drew a relieved breath and the color drained from his face as the pain hit him again, worse than before. He was gratified to see that Avon was half way on his feet in alarm. "Blake?"

 

"I'm all right, Avon. The painkiller has worn off, that's all. Would you ask Dayna to find something for me?"

 

"I'll do it," Avon said, and set about preparing the medicine. Blake lay there and watched him and was relieved to note that his hands were steady as he prepared the injection. Tarrant's description of Avon's return to the ship had frightened him badly. It could have been much worse, Blake knew, but it had been bad enough, and Avon might still let it get to him. Blake hoped that he wouldn't , but there was no way of being sure. All this had merely delayed the inevitable. Eventually Avon would have to go on another raid, and until he did and acquitted himself well, he was going to have doubts. No matter how many people told him he had done nothing wrong this time, the fact of Blake's and Vila's injuries were going to make him doubt himself.

 

"There," Avon said, standing back. "Is that better, Blake?"

 

"Yes, thank you, Avon."

 

Dayna materialized at Avon's side. "Let him sleep now, Avon. He'll need a lot of rest just at first."

 

Avon nodded and took himself out of the room very quickly, and Blake's eyes followed him. He was still worried about him.

 

For the next few days, Avon worked on the material that Orac had retrieved from the base on Lerrion. He seemed distant and remote and did not take kindly to being disturbed by anyone at all. He made no effort to visit Blake again, but the others reported back to him that Avon was acting colder than usual. Blake believed that Avon feared he had revealed too much of himself during the crisis, but whatever the reason, no one was breaking past his barriers this time, not even Vila. The thief trailed around mournfully as if he had lost his closest friend, and after several days, even Avon noticed. He raised his eyes from the printout he had been studying to find Vila's eyes on him.

 

"Can't you ever leave me alone?" he snapped.

 

Vila shrank back as if he had been struck. He said, "I wasn't doing anything , Avon."

 

"Then perhaps you could find somewhere else not to do it in."

 

"I've got as much right here as you do," Vila objected halfheartedly. "More, probably."

 

"Do you? I wonder."

 

"What are you going to do if I don't leave then?" Vila asked, starting to get angry."Throw me out an airlock?"

 

Avon went rigid at that, and Vila, remembering the incident on the shuttle over Malodaar, paled and wished his words unsaid. He'd tried not to remind Avon of that incident; and he didn't want to remember it much himself, but he had realized almost at the time that Avon had not been himself then. It had been one of the more noticeable signs of Avon's increasing madness, and if it had not been followed so quickly by Gauda Prime, Vila knew that he and the others would have been forced to do something about it. But reminding Avon of the incident had never been considered a very good idea. Now he had put his foot in his mouth like the fool Avon had always called him, right when he didn't need anything more to worry about.

 

But after a moment, Avon was back in control again. "The idea is not without merit," he said, his voice still too cold.

 

"Is that so?" Vila snapped, but he felt weary and sad, and he could not keep it from showing.

 

Avon noticed and relented slightly. He said more gently, "Yes, Vila." Then he continued, "Vila, I do not need a bodyguard, and I do not need a nursemaid. If that is why you are here...."

 

"Maybe I'm just bored," Vila objected. "Maybe I want to talk to somebody. Dayna's checking out that new weapon of hers and won't let me help; says my arm isn't well enough yet. And Tarrant hid all the liquor somewhere. There's nothing to do. Why can't you talk to me, tell me what you're doing with all that information. You never know, I might even understand it."

 

" _That_  would be a surprise." But Avon' s annoyance with Vila had melted away. He said, "All right, Vila. I will put you to work. Come over here."

 

"Work?" Vila echoed in dismay, but he came anyway, hiding his relief. "What are you looking for, Avon?" he asked. "You've been over all that data a hundred times."

 

"I want to be certain of my findings."

 

"What did you find?"

 

"That the whole Lerrion base is a set up, geared to do one thing, to lure us there."

 

"Us?" Vila asked, alarmed.

 

"Perhaps not us specifically. Or perhaps not even recently. But I think that I detect the hand of Servalan in this scheme. It looks like her handiwork."

 

"But if it was a setup, then why weren't we captured?"

 

"Because I think it was intended to be used a long time ago. I think she must have learned that someone was trying to find information on control bases."

 

"Blake, you mean?"

 

"She might not have known that it was Blake. But either we or Blake would have been worth the effort of capturing. I think when she picked up those rumors, she started baiting a trap for us. After Gauda Prime, she believed that we had been dealt with and abandoned the plan, possibly changing the function of the base. Then, when she heard I was no longer her prisoner, she started to look for us again, and now that we have been to Lerrion, she will have that report and she will be expecting us."

 

"Oh," said Vila. "Now she's alerted."

 

"But she does not know where we are," Avon reminded him. "And we have other information as well. Either she did not know of my familiarity with the computers on Lerrion, or she did not appreciate the fact properly."

 

"Why? Did you find out something else, Avon?"

 

"Several places where we might find her." He smiled, a very predatory smile. "And since the Lerrion base was posing as a control complex, she decided not to waste it, and it is now operating in that function. As a result, I was able to pinpoint the location of four other such bases. They are all linked; destroying one of them will merely distribute the function to the other four. It would require a concentrated attack to destroy all of them."

 

"Then we didn't find out all that much, did we?"

 

" Ah , but we did. You see, now that Orac has been linked with that system, we can use the link again. It was eventually severed, but Orac can make contact now should we need it to."

 

"And plant false information," Vila suggested, grinning.

 

"That is an attractive idea," Avon agreed. "But I have a better one. Information about Servalan for instance. The true identity of Commissioner Sleer."

 

Vila began to laugh. "Let's go tell Blake. He'll love this."

 

"Yes, he will, won't he."

 

#

 

"So what are we going to do about it?" Blake asked. He was sitting up these days and expected to be on his feet again in a few more, and back to health within a week or so. Everyone had met in the medical unit for this session, and he had been listening while Avon, ably hindered by Vila, had explained the findings of Orac's data from Lerrion.

 

"I think that it might be time to confront Servalan," Avon said when he had finished.

 

It was obvious to all of them that he was looking forward to the encounter. "I hope you'll wait until I'm back on my feet," Blake replied. "I'd rather enjoy the meeting myself."

 

"Oh, you'll be there, Blake," Avon said. "After all, this was your idea."

 

There was a note of sarcasm in his voice, and Blake wasn't sure just how to take it, but he decided that Avon wouldn't be Avon without it. Better to accept Avon as he seemed these days. He would not thank any of them for prying into his feelings. Blake knew that he had occasional nightmares; he'd had Vila sneak into Avon's quarters and wire the intercom so that it could be monitored at night. If Avon suspected that it had been tampered with, he gave no sign of it, and he had the dreams under control. Blake was ready to send Vila back to rewire it before Avon found out and got angry about it.

 

But Avon's weren't the only nightmares on board ship. Blake had had a few himself; he'd been reminded all too vividly of Gauda Prime, and the days of his recovery were too sharp in his memory just at first. And he had found himself wondering about Vila as well. Vila's eyes had been dark and shuttered in the mornings; he was starting to look more like himself, but Blake remembered the shuttle incident that Soolin had told him about and wondered if that had not been the cause of Vila's bad dreams. All in all, it hadn't been a very comfortable few days.

 

But it was starting to improve. Avon's work on the data had helped him, given him something to concentrate on, and Vila was brighter today as well. Blake was sure that once he was back on his feet, he could begin to put away the memories for good.

 

Oddly enough, Tarrant had been a great help. He didn't seem to be arguing these days simply to prove that he was king of the hill. He was discovering that it was challenging, even fun, to match wits with Avon and the others, and that he, and they, enjoyed it more if he didn't seem to be trying to prove himself as well as his point.

 

Tarrant exchanged a smile with Vila--that was new too, Tarrant's tolerance of Vila--and said, "What fun. We can hardly wait."

 

"Speak for yourself, Tarrant," Vila said, then added with a hint of malice, "Oh, I forgot. You're looking forward to seeing her again, aren't you?"

 

Tarrant glared at him, then he grinned. "Jealous, Vila?" he asked.

 

Vila grinned back. "Not me. I'm not one to live dangerously."

 

"We've noticed," Dayna said sourly. She wasn't thrilled at the idea of Servalan at all, unless it was the idea of seeing her die.

 

Avon said, "So when do we plan this...encounter?"

 

" As soon as I'm out of here," Blake replied. "Think you can wait that long?"

 

"If we must we must," Avon replied. "Yes, Blake. I can wait."

 

#

 

Blake was up and around in a few days, weak at first but gaining strength all the time. He started coming to the flight deck, sitting half a watch at first and gradually working up. Avon had fallen into his old behavior pattern with Blake, back in the days before Gan had died, and it seemed to work best for him that way. He would snap and criticize and find fault, but somehow Blake could feel no spite in it. And there were the rare moments when Avon would let down his guard, at ease with everyone, and even on rare occasions, crack a joke. He could sneak it into the conversation with such a straight face that sometimes the victim might not even realize that Avon had poked fun at him until one of the others caught on. It was marvelously entertaining; Vila always noticed first, but then Vila had always appreciated Avon's humor even when the others had not thought that he could be funny.

 

But there were still areas in which Avon had not much changed; he might be forced to admit to himself that he had some feelings for the others, though it was an area which he preferred to leave alone, but he wasn't going to let his guard down too far with them. Enough that they must believe he trusted them. He had the feeling that it would be impossible to handle them if they suspected that he liked them too. So he kept his barriers up, when he remembered to erect them, which was almost all the time. The others didn't really mind. They had known Avon for a long time, and they were comfortable with him this way.

 

Even so, as Blake's health improved and the confrontation with Servalan neared, Avon began to show increasing signs of tension. They were such slight signs that in the old days, none of them would have noticed, but everyone on  _Venture_  was a little closer now, and they could not fail to tell that Avon was starting to worry about something like a repeat of the Lerrion incident. He had forced himself to practice with various weapons until he was comfortable with them again; and there was no trace of a tremor in his hands when he held one. But Blake knew that Avon was worried, and so the night before they were to begin their search for Servalan, he went to Avon's quarters.

 

He found Avon doing something to the intercom. "Ah, Blake. I was just checking to make sure that no one had tampered with this again." His eyes caught Blake's challengingly, then when Blake's jaw dropped in astonishment that Avon had known all along about that protection, he smiled a bit. "Did you honestly think that I would rot know that my intercom had been interfered with, Blake?"

 

"You didn't say anything about it, Avon."

 

"What would have been the use. Knowing you and your incredible stubbornness, I chose to accept this rather than nightly invasions of my privacy. I disconnected it, of course, after several days."

 

"And now you're afraid we've done it to you again?"

 

"It is not necessary," Avon said firmly. "Blake, you will have to either accept the fact that I am well or decide that I am not. If you think I am not, then perhaps you had best consider that I do not belong on a fighting ship."

 

"I think you're well," Blake said, "But we all need help from time to time; did you know that Vila and I had our share of nightmares after Lerrion too? I didn't chase Dayna and Soolin away when they sat by my bed at night."

 

"And who sat with Vila?" Avon asked skeptically. "Tarrant? I find that very hard to believe."

 

Blake grinned. "I believe Dayna and Soolin took turns."

 

"How very cosy."

 

"Isn't it?" Blake smiled a little. Avon, accepting help occasionally doesn't mean that you've had a relapse. It only means you're human like the rest of us. That doesn't mean we don't believe you're well right now. And it doesn't mean we don't worry about you. We worry about each other, all of us. We can't turn it off for you, and we wouldn't want to."

 

"Another pep talk , Blake?" Avon asked scornfully.

 

"Yes. You told me once I thrived on them."

 

"So you do. And I don't think that was all you came here to say."

 

"No. I wondered if you wanted to talk about the mission."

 

"No. Do you?"

 

"I confess I'm a little nervous about it. Confronting Servalan isn't going to be easy."

 

"Was it ever? Blake, you don't have any intention of killing her, do you?"

 

"You know me, Avon. What do you think?"

 

"I think you might have to restrain Dayna. She's been wanting to kill Servalan for a long time now."

 

"Think of it like this, Avon. We know her ways. I'd rather deal with her than a stranger. We can predict more of her actions. She's devious and intelligent, and I wouldn't trust her an inch, but at least we can tell where we are, when she's around. And now we have her at a Blight disadvantage. We're all alive and we know who she is. She has that to contend with. Blackmail can be effective."

 

"Suitably devious, Blake." He was silent a moment. "Yes, I would not be inclined to simply kill her either." He added, "It would be too quick and too clean."

 

Blake nodded. "Yes, I do see what you mean." If all went well, it was going to be an interesting encounter.

 

Part 4: Servalan.

 

Commissioner Sleer sat in her temporary office on the planet Chemarin and studied the reports on the raid on Lerrion. The two worlds adjoined on the control link, and if Avon and his accomplices were to continue their raiding, this was a likely place for them to come next. It appeared that Avon and Blake were working together again, but from the reports she had been reading , all had not gone smoothly for them. Several of the troopers who had almost succeeded in capturing the dissidents had reported that Avon had some sort of problem. She wondered if it was a result of being kept in the clinic, drugged for all that time, or if perhaps the troopers had exaggerated Avon' s reaction to Blake's shooting in order to divert her attention from their inability to capture the party. Whatever the case, Blake might now be dead. She had no way of knowing. She smiled a bit. With Blake finally dead and Avon still mad, she had very little to worry about, but better to check the control systems now and make certain that all was well. Once that was accomplished, then she could complete her plans to return to power.

 

"Hello, Servalan."

 

Somehow, now that the confrontation was here, she was not even surprised. "Avon," she said in response to that familiar voice behind her and began to edge her hand toward the hidden signal button to call for assistance.

 

"Not so fast, Servalan." That was Blake's voice, and the gun that was pressed into her side was remarkably steady. Servalan thought better of the attempt to call for help. She would talk her way out of this instead. Raising her hands to show them that she did not intend to try anything foolish, she turned and studied the two of them. They were both pointing weapons at her, and their expressions were remarkably similar in their hatred for her and their wary alertness.

 

She said, "To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Blake?"

 

"I think you know, Servalan."

 

"Sleer."

 

"Not anymore," Avon answered. "Vila suggested we should use the link we now have--an unbreakable link, by the way--with the control computer system on Lerrion to plant false information in Federation records. I came up with a slightly better idea, however."

 

"And I endorsed it," Blake added smoothly.

 

"What is it ?" Servalan asked warily.

 

"It's very simple," Avon replied. "But first, if we are not safely back on our ship within fifteen minutes to countermand the order, Orac will link with the Lerrion computer and inform it of your true identity, with orders for that information to be revealed to every important Federation official in the inner and outer worlds. If our ship is fired upon, Orac will transmit that information at once. Even if the ship should be destroyed, Orac will have time to complete the link. Only by allowing us to leave here unharmed will you have any possibility of keeping your secret."

 

"Oh, Avon, you know perfectly well that I would not trust you to keep your word," she said with a smile. "After all, you're quite mad. I'd be in trouble no matter what you tell me or what I do."

 

"If anyone in this room is mad," Blake put in, "it's you, Servalan. Mad for power. Well, you'll have less of it now, perhaps none at all. But that is up to you."

 

"Then you may tell me what you expect of me," she replied. "I am ready to be amused."

 

Avon took a step closer and reached out to grasp her throat with one hand and forced her chin up so that she was looking directly into his eyes. "Servalan, I could kill you here and now. I would enjoy it, and Blake would not stop me. He might have done so in the past, but he won't now."

 

"I might even consider helping him," Blake said with a smile.

 

"But I don't think I'm ready to kill you--yet," Avon said. "It would be too easy for you. And I want you to suffer before you die, Servalan."

 

She looked into his unfathomable eyes and saw no madness in them, only a relentless anger. She said, "Avon, you and I should never have been on opposite sides. I know I've treated you badly in the past, but that can change. It  _will_  change."

 

"I stopped believing in fantasy a great many years ago, Servalan," he told her. "Deals with you are not part of our plan."

 

"What  _is_  your plan?" she asked him, beginning to be afraid.

 

"We're going to take you away from here," Avon said, "and put you somewhere as secure as the place where you left me for six months."

 

Servalan jerked away from the hand that had tightened ever so slightly around her throat. "Blake, you can't permit this. I know you. You're too idealistic, too honorable, to permit this revenge."

 

"Do you think so?" Blake asked. "It was my idea."

 

Avon pulled a bracelet from inside his tunic and fastened it around her wrist. "Blake, I think we should leave here now. She's stalling. I don't trust her. There may be surveillance in this room."

 

"Do you think I would permit myself to be observed?" Servalan retorted haughtily. "My privacy is not to be infringed. upon."

 

"I think you're right, Avon," Blake said, ignoring her. He raised his bracelet. "Vila, this is Blake. Teleport now."

 

And the door opened and five troopers came crashing into the room. Servalan's smile spread as she dived hastily out of the line of fire. Now she would have them both.

 

But this time, Avon didn't hesitate at all. He was firing before the troops were completely through the door, and Blake's weapon echoed Avon's. Three of the men fell and the other two dived for cover as the teleport beam took them, including Servalan who was just reaching for her bracelet to tear it off.

 

They materialized in the teleport section weapons still at ready, and Vila gave an alarmed cry and ducked under the console as he found himself the target of two guns. But Avon and Blake were lowering their weapons and exchanging a look of shared satisfaction.

 

"You can come out now, Vila," Avon said. "It's over."

 

Vila poked his head up cautiously, saw the look on Avon's face and emerged quickly. He said, "Are you all right?"

 

"No thanks to Servalan," Avon said, but he recognized the tone of Vila's voice and gave him a faint smile. Vila grinned happily in return.

 

Blake saw Avon lowering his weapon and realized now what he'd been too busy to notice at the time, that Avon had handled his gun with no hesitation at all. "I told you you could do it," he said, elated.

 

"Did you?" Avon asked. "Isn't it boring being right all the time?"

 

"You tell me," Blake replied. "You enjoy it as much as I do."

 

"What about her?" Vila asked, pointing at Servalan. "Did she give you any trouble?"

 

"No," Avon said. "And she won't." He went over to the intercom. "Tarrant, we've got her. Set course for Christain."

 

"Christain?" Servalan asked in alarm. "Why are we going there?"

 

"I thought you might like to visit there for a time," Blake informed her. "It's remote, and the odds are against your being rescued in the near future."

 

"Rescued? If you put me down on Christain, you'll be no better than a murderer, Blake."

 

"That's good, coming from you," Vila told her. "What do you call what you did to Avon, sticking him in that place on Mordra Minor. Do you think we're going to worry about you after that?"

 

"Why, Vila, do you care?" she asked in surprise.

 

"As it happens, we all do," Blake said calmly. "You've made some dangerous enemies, Servalan. If you come along now," he added, "We'll show you to your...quarters.

#

 

Christain had begun its life as a penal colony much like Cygnus Alpha, but sometime in the previous century, the convicts had joined forces with a native life form and had begun to repel new convict ships. After losing five ships, the Federation decided that since the convicts weren't likely to leave the planet, it would be better to cut their losses and they put the planet off limits. The alien beings, small lizard-like creatures, were parasitic, and had developed a symbiotic relationship with the male colonists, to some extent controlling not their minds but their bodies.

 

The Christainians were savage and violent. There had not been many female colonists to begin with; once the symbiotic link was formed most of the women on the planet had been killed. Realizing that they were likely to destroy future host life forms, the Christainians had been forced to control their savage drives, at least where human females were concerned, but the matings which followed were still violent enough to kill some women. Eventually, life on Christain might die out, but it was surviving now. Orac had learned about Christain through its link with the Lerrion computer and had discovered that in spite of the quarantine, the Federation still left the occasional group of prisoners on the planet.

 

"There is a chance that she might be rescued," Dayna said regretfully, once Servalan had beep locked up for the journey. She rather enjoyed the idea of Servalan being stranded there.

 

"A small one," Blake admitted.

 

Tarrant frowned. "Blake, do you really think this is a good idea?"

 

Avon gave him a cold look. "Do you care what happens to her, Tarrant?"

 

"I don't think even she deserves that."

 

"Don't you?" Blake asked him. "I think we're being more than fair to her. After what she did to Avon, I don't think she deserves anything less, Tarrant. I also think that you had better stay away from her. I don't want her talking you into letting her escape."

 

"There's no chance of that, Blake. And I don't especially want to see her anyway."

 

"Let me guard her, Blake," Dayna offered. "She won't get away from me."

 

"We'll reach Christain tomorrow," Avon said. "I think we can confine her until then."

 

#

 

The trip to Christain was not very long. That night, Blake and Avon shared a watch. For awhile, they discussed Servalan, then Blake said seriously, "Avon, down there on Chemarin you handled everything all right. Did it feel all right to you?"

 

In the old days, Avon would have resented and perhaps refused to answer such a question, but now he looked at Blake thoughtfully, and said, "I think the problem with guns is resolved, Blake."

 

"I think so too, Avon. You didn't hesitate at all down there."

 

"Perhaps it was Servalan," Avon said thoughtfully. "I was not prepared to let her escape."

 

"I can understand that. Personally I think you could have handled it on Lerrion too; if Tarrant hadn't come bursting in that first time , you wouldn't have doubted your abilities, and neither would I."

 

"I don't doubt my abilities, Blake," Avon said. He hesitated. "Not now."

 

"Good."

 

Avon paused again. "Thank you," he said at length.

 

"It's your doing, Avon. I knew you could manage it. I've always had confidence in you."

 

"You're an optimist."

 

"Don't say it like it was a bad word," Blake said with a grin.

 

"You are a fool--and all I can say is that fools and idealists need a few cynics around to keep them from falling on their faces."

 

"And that's your job," Blake said, grinning broadly. "At least, I hope it is."

 

"You won't be rid of me that easily, Blake. After all, I might want the  _Venture_."

 

"Yes, of course. For its vast wealth and its remarkable abilities."

 

"This is not a bad ship, Blake."

 

"It's not the  _Liberator_."

 

"No," Avon admitted, thinking of the  _Liberator_  and other memories of that time. Cally...He said, "Don't expect too much, Blake."

 

"I think I know what I can expect of you, Avon."

 

Avon eyed him warily. "The disconcerting thing," he admitted, is that I suspect you do."

 

At that moment, Soolin appeared in tl1e doorway. "Blake, you haven't seen Tarrant, have you?"

 

"No, why? Is he missing?"

 

"It's just that I haven't seen him. He was supposed to meet Dayna and me to eat, and he never showed up."

 

"Maybe he's with Vila," Avon suggested.

 

"No. I've just contacted Vila. He hasn't seen him either."

 

Avon exchanged a suspicious look with Blake. "You don't suppose...." Blake began.

 

And Avon finished, "That he's gone to see Servalan? It would not surprise me. The stupid fool."

 

They headed for Servalan's cabin only to find the door standing open and Tarrant stretched out unconscious on the floor. Soolin knelt beside him and felt for a pulse. "He's been hit over the head," she reported. He's not badly hurt, only stunned."

 

" And Servalan is loose on this ship," Avon said.

 

Blake turned for the door. "Let him sleep it off," he said. "We'd better get back to the flight deck and leave someone there to guard it; then we'll need to make sure she hasn't done any damage."

 

Soolin was installed on the flight deck, heavily armed. Orac confirmed that the flight status was unaltered. "So far so good," Blake said.

 

"With Servalan loose on this ship, there is nothing that is 'good', Blake," Avon remarked. He crossed to the intercom. "Vila?"

 

No response. "Vila, come in immediately," said Avon impatiently. "Hello, Avon."

 

He stiffened at the familiar voice, full of smug satisfaction. "Servalan ," he said.

 

"Avon, I think we can do business. You have something I want--my freedom. And I have something that you want."

 

"Don't count on it," Avon snarled.

 

"Yes," she purred."Vila. Say hello to Avon, Vila."

 

" Avon?" Vila's voice quavered. And then he added quickly,"Don't worry about me, Avon. Just get rid of her."

 

"I intend to."

 

"Then I shall kill Vila." Avon could almost imagine her smile. "After all, he's quite useless; you have said so yourself, many times." There was a sound of a blow falling , and Vila cried out in pain.

 

Avon stiffened, and Blake started toward the doorway, but Avon restrained him. He cut the switch and said, "We've got to get him out of there."

 

"What would you suggest?"

 

"I suggest bashing her head in," came Tarrant's voice from the doorway. He was leaning against the wall, a bit groggy, rubbing the back of his head, a rueful look on his face. "I'm sorry, Blake," he said. "I walked right into that one. And she didn't hesitate to take full advantage of it."

 

"We've noticed," Avon said sourly. "If anything should happen to Vila, it will be your fault, Tarrant."

 

"I'm aware of that, Avon."

 

"Vila's not as helpless as all that," Soolin said. "How do we know he can't help himself."

 

Avon hit the switch again. "Servalan, how do we know that you'll let Vila go if we free you?"

 

"You don't, Avon. You only know that I will kill him if you don't."

 

"Thus ridding yourself of a hostage. No, Servalan. You'll keep him alive. You'd be stupid not to."

 

"Perhaps," she conceded, "But not in very good condition. Tell them, Vila."

 

Silence.

 

"Tell them, Vila, or I will smash your right hand."

 

There was a pause, then Vila said, "Blake don't listen to her. She hasn't done anything to me."

 

"Haven't I?"

 

"Well," Vila admitted reluctantly, "Not very much."

 

Blake reached out and cut the switch again. "Could we flood Vila's quarters with gas, something to knock her out?"

 

"There's nothing that would act fast enough," Soolin replied. "She'd have time to shoot him before it would put her out. We can't risk that, Blake."

 

" And she'd be likely to do it out of spite," Avon added.

 

"We've got to do something," Tarrant said.

 

"Don't tell me you're worried about Vila?" Avon said skeptically.

 

"As it happens, I am." Tarrant flushed a bit. "It's my fault he's in trouble. Blake, let me go down there."

 

"No. I don't intend to risk Vila or any of us that way."

 

"If anyone goes down there, I will go," Avon said flatly. "I am the one she would want." He punched the button. "Servalan, what are your terms?"

 

"We come to a planet, any planet at all. You and the others teleport down to the surface. As soon as you are gone, I will send Vila down to you. I keep the ship--and Orac."

 

"No deal," Blake said.

 

"Then Vila dies."

 

"And you follow him within minutes," Tarrant told her.

 

"Do I? That wasn't your attitude a few minutes ago, Tarrant. You were quite concerned about me then."

 

" Do you think so ?"

 

"I know it. But that is not important. Are you going to teleport down?"

 

"Servalan," Avon said, "I'm coming down there to talk to you."

 

"Are you, Avon? That should prove interesting. But I assure you that I will not release Vila."

 

"Perhaps I would make a better hostage than Vila would."

 

Tarrant shot him a surprised look, but Vila said over the intercom, "No, Avon. Don't do it." It was obvious to everyone on the flight deck that his voice was weaker than before.

 

Avon said, "I'm coming down there, Servalan."

 

"Oh, very well," she conceded with such a lack of reluctance that he realized it had been her intention all along.

 

" Avon, no," Blake objected. "That's what she wants."

 

"I'm only going to talk to her," Avon said with deceptive mildness.

 

"I can't stop you if you insist on going."

 

"I'm glad you realize that." He reached to shut off the switch again. "Blake, I have no intention of letting her keep Vila. Once I'm gone, open the intercom again, but don't respond to her."

 

" Avon, are you certain you ought to take this risk?"

 

"Are you afraid I can't handle it?" Avon asked very softly.

 

"No, I'm afraid something will happen to you and Vila."

 

"That's the same thing," Avon said stiffly.

 

"Is it? I don't think so, Avon. I don't doubt you; I don't doubt your sanity or your abilities or your motives. I just don't want anything to happen to either of you."

 

"Very commendable," Avon said but without the sneer he would once have employed. "For once, Blake, just trust me without telling me all about it."

 

Blake had to grin a little in spite of the situation. "In other words, 'shut up, Blake,' is that it, Avon?"

 

"Exactly." He grinned back and strode off the flight deck.

 

#

 

Servalan opened the door to him. "Avon, come in."

 

When Avon entered, he found Servalan, gun in hand, keeping her back to the wall and the weapon pointing directly at Vila. The thief was sitting huddled on his bed, a stain of red on the side of his shirt at his waist.

 

It must have been minor, because he was conscious and alert, but the small stain was growing slowly and steadily. He said, "I might have known you'd come down here, Avon."

 

"You did, did you?" He studied Vila's pallor, noticed that in spite of the injury, Vila seemed poised for action, though in his condition, it would have to be nothing very strenuous. Avon sized him up and then turned to Servalan. "So now you have what you wanted, Servalan. Shall we talk terms?"

 

"That's what I like about you, Avon. You are always so reasonable."

 

"For a madman?" he asked softly.

 

"Oh, Avon. I know perfectly well that most of that was the drug I ordered them to give you, and the rest of it--well, that was just a bit of shock. You shot Blake. It was inevitable that you react to that. You thought him dead." She smiled at him. "It made your capture that much easier."

 

"Unfortunately for you, I am not as good a shot as you had hoped, Servalan."

 

"That is true. I had hoped to be rid of the two of you at one stroke. I had not counted on other factors."

 

"If you mean me," Vila chipped in, "I'd like a bit better billing than other factors, if you don't mind."

 

"Nuisance factors, then," Servalan corrected carelessly, and Avon could not resist a smile. Vila grimaced, but he sagged a bit lower on the bed.

 

Avon turned to look at him again. Servalan followed his look. "Now, Avon, I think it is time we came to an agreement," she said.

 

"If you think we are simply going to hand this ship over to you, you are very much mistaken, Servalan."

 

"Then Vila will die. It's not a serious injury, but even a mild one left untreated can become infected. You would never have minded before."

 

"And I don't now," Avon said at once.

 

"But I think you do, Avon."

 

He turned to look at her. "Perhaps you don't understand me, Servalan."

 

"Oh, but I do, Avon. I may be the only one who ever did."

 

Avon's eyes kept flicking back to Vila--now Vila gave him a wink.

 

Avon did not seem to acknowledge it, but Vila reacted anyway. He waited a moment, until Servalan's attention was fully on Avon, then he groaned very loudly and sagged, falling off the bed to land on the floor with a loud and satisfying thump.

 

Servalan had been expecting trouble, but at the noise, she allowed her eyes to slide sideways for just a moment, to make sure that Vila was not trying to jump her. It was enough.

 

Avon jumped at her, got his hands on the gun. For a moment, they struggled over it fiercely. Vila dragged himself up again, ready to go to Avon's assistance if needed. He'd just managed to climb to his feet when the gun went off.

 

" Avon?" faltered Vila.

 

There was no answer for a heart-stopping moment, then Avon wrenched the gun violently from Servalan's grip. He brought up his fist and hit her hard on the jaw and she collapsed back on the bed with a cry and lay very still.

 

Vila's knees gave out and he found himself sitting beside her. Curiously he examined her, then he raised startled eyes. "Avon," he said, "I think you've broken her jaw."

 

"Do you think so?" Avon asked in a peculiar voice. "I know I've broken my hand." And to Vila's astonishment and horror, he went limp and slid to the floor.

 

Vila pounced on the intercom. "Blake, help!" Then he dragged himself up and knelt beside Avon.

 

#

 

It proved to be nothing very serious. When the gun had gone off, the main bolt had passed harmlessly between his arm and body, but it had grazed his side and the inside of his arm. His eyes opened before Blake could arrive, and he stared up at Vila in considerable surprise. "Did I pass out?"

 

"You did. Gave me heart failure, it did," Vila said accusingly. "I thought she'd killed you."

 

Avon sat up easily, then winced. "Ouch. What happened?"

 

"It's only a graze," Vila assured him. "But you were right, your hand is broken." He grinned. "She'll be furious when she wakes up."

 

"Yes, she will, won't she?" Avon grinned, then reached out to catch Vila as he sagged. "What about you?" he asked.

 

Vila's eyes closed and he leaned comfortably against Avon. "Blake's coming," he muttered and lost consciousness.

 

And it was that way that Blake found them when he and Tarrant and Dayna came bursting into the room. "How is he?" Blake asked, kneeling beside the thief.

 

"He'll be all right," Avon answered. "He just lost a bit of blood, that's all."

 

Vila's eyes opened and he grinned faintly. "You'd better take care of Avon too," he muttered. "He's very careless sometimes."

 

"I'm all right," Avon replied repressively, climbing to his feet. "Tarrant, I think we can trust you to lock her up--this time."

 

"I'll help," Dayna insisted. "She won't get away from me."

 

Still awake, Vila muttered, "Avon broke her jaw."

 

"You know, he's right," Dayna said, grinning. "Come on, Servalan, wake up. You're going back to your cell."

 

#

 

Avon's hand was repaired, and the graze from Servalan's gun was not serious enough to keep him in the medical unit. They kept Vila there for a day, so he was not present when Servalan was teleported down to the planet Christain. He didn't mind a bit.

 

"Avon, I'll get away from here," Servalan snarled, sounding far less convincing than usual. Her jaw had been mended but it was still swollen and sore, and talking hurt.

 

Avon only nodded. "Perhaps," he said. "Perhaps not. Maybe we will come back for you in six months."

 

"Yes, you'd do that, wouldn't you." She gave him a defiant glare. "Put me down, damn you, and get it over with."

 

Blake activated the teleport. "Goodbye, Servalan," he said.

 

#

 

She materialized on a barren and desolate plain and looked around in dismay. There was no cover, no place to hide, and she knew that it would not be long before she was discovered here. She began to consider her options. Would her rank have any authority here? She was not sure, but she would try it. If not, there were other methods of enforcing her will. One of them was certain to work. Maybe. She took of the teleport bracelet and flung it on the ground. There would be no help from that quarter.

 

She chose her direction and started walking.

 

Epilog: Venture

 

And so, everything went back to normal. Vila was released from the medical unit, perfectly fit, and Avon's hand mended quickly. Tarrant had a headache for a few days as a result of his run in with Servalan, and he had to put up with Avon's complaints and bad temper, but he knew that they were justified, and so he didn't complain--much.

 

Several days later, everyone met on the flight deck. Avon had been consulting with Orac, and as Blake entered the room, he turned to face him and said challengingly, "I see you've been checking with Orac about Federation bases, Blake."

 

"Is there any reason why I shouldn't, Avon?"

 

"Blake, one of the things we have always agreed upon was that you would discuss any plans you have with the rest of us."

 

"And so I shall. But there's no reason why I shouldn't keep myself informed in the meantime, is there?"

 

"Apparently not," Avon said dryly. "Blake, there are times when I feel very suspicious of your motives."

 

"You feel suspicious of everybody's motives, all the time," Vila reminded him.

 

Avon shot him a glance, and to Vila's surprise, smiled at him. "Everyone's but yours," he pointed out, "Because there are none to be suspicious of."

 

"I'll remember that," Vila said, "the next time I might be stupid enough to try and save your life."

 

Tarrant grinned. "He's got you there, Avon."

 

"Does he? And what of you, Tarrant?"

 

" Are you going to rub it in some more?"

 

"Shouldn't I? I thought you were actually starting to learn a few things; I was mistaken."

 

Blake began to laugh. Everyone turned and stared at him in surprise. "I don't see what's so funny," Dayna said. "Servalan's no joke, Blake, even there. Knowing her, she'll manage to get away in a week or two."

 

"Perhaps. If so, we can still hurt her, now that he have Orac's link with the control computer. No, that wasn't what I was laughing at."

 

"Then what was it?" Vila asked suspiciously.

 

"Us," Blake said.

 

"Why?" asked Soolin. She did not enjoy being the subject of a joke, particularly one that she did not happen to understand.

 

Blake grinned broadly at them. "Don't you see?" he said. "We're all of us back to normal."

 

"And that's a good thing?" Vila asked, his voice mournful. "It was better before. People were nice to me occasionally. I liked it." But there was understanding in his eyes. He looked at Blake and nodded slightly.

 

"Think of it this way, Vila," Tarrant told him. "At least you'll have some fond memories."

 

"That's more than you'll have, you great idiot."

 

As the argument escalated around him, drawing all the crew into a royal name calling bout, Blake sat back in his chair and grinned to himself. They'd done it after all. They'd beaten the odds. They'd won.

 

Avon sat down beside him, for once not bothering to conceal his feelings. Glancing over his shoulder at the argument that had continued even after he'd dropped out of it, he said, "Well, Blake, I don't envy you."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Having that lot to deal with."

 

"Avon, I'm very glad I've got that lot to deal with," Blake said frankly. "Even if it means putting up with one very difficult computer expert as well."

 

Avon's eyes warmed. "Yes, well, you always were a glutton for punishment," he said.

 

the end


End file.
